


Addiction

by Loki_in_Chains (Brooklyn_Hela_Jackson)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bodily Fluids, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Drug Addict Loki, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Kink Shaming, Light Winterfrost, Loki in a corset, Loki-centric, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, One Shot, POV First Person, Poor Loki, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Acceptance, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Sissy Loki, Verbal Humiliation, bucky to the rescue, prostitution for drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 21:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brooklyn_Hela_Jackson/pseuds/Loki_in_Chains
Summary: An addiction will drive you to do some dark things.





	Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> OMG!! IF YOU CHOOSE TO READ THIS BE WARNED, IT IS DARK!!!
> 
> This is not a fic for the faint of heart. It does include a male character trading his body for drugs, being raped by multiple men, cross-dressing in a negative manner, being forced to wear a corset and being badly injured. It also has him preferring non-traditional under garments.
> 
> Please, as weird as this sounds, Enjoy.

I was sent to find a treasure and I failed. I had failed miserably. Defeated and broken I had tried to run but they were right. I couldn't hide. I was found and then they took pity on me. At least, I thought it to be pity. I was graciously allowed to live. Dumped back where I had failed. It didn't take me long to understand that the threat they had leveled at me was being fulfilled. I would wish for pain, sweet sweet pain. It had been nine months since they last came to me and told me how to be free of their curse. I have to keep control of my mind. Keep it from slipping to my demon, the shattered remnants of my ego.

Every reflective surface suddenly had a voice, the voice of my rage, my anger and my power. They had left me impotent, powerless, stripped of the things that made me a threat. Now everything I had lost manifested together in my reflection and every mirror is trying to steal my mind from me.

Demerol. An opioid drug was the first thing that made it stop. I could think, sleep, do things again. I no longer remember how I was first able to get a hold of it but I was taking a dozen pills within a month. A dozen pills every day, to be clear.

Now I am almost at quadruple that. I spend most of my time in a euphoric mist, writing to sustain myself and find a different release.

Yet I still find myself looking at the demon as I am sitting at my desk looking at my shutdown laptop screen.

“You're going to take it aren't you. You need it, the drugs he'll give you. Give into me, it would be easier. Less humiliating.” The serpentine voice spoke. The last bottle of pills was empty save for a single bright pink pill with a unicorn stamped on it. Ecstasy. I hated that damn pill but taking it meant getting more of my sweet relief. “Have your strength, your real self back, Loki. Don't you want that?”

I slammed the lid down for my answer. My leg was twitching and I felt nauseous. I would have to make my choice soon. Either I could try to go cold turkey or give in to my cravings. I picked up the nearly empty bottle and slipped into the bedroom.

I hate myself every time I put on the black dress that Mike bought me. I let it slip once that crossdressing didn't bother me. He told me if I wanted my drugs I would give him what he wanted, me as a woman. No, what he really wanted was me, as his whore. At one point, I would have been able to shift and present myself as a fully functional female but now, ruined by my errors and failures as I am, it means wearing a slinky black dress, ten inch heels and a black choker. My reflection, as I put on my makeup, continued to taunt me.

“Don't you look pretty, Loki?” It's voice cold and sarcastic. “Your famous emerald eyes with such tiny pupils and painted to stand out, like an erection. Desperate. That's what that whore paint screams. You like it though, don't you? Defiling my beautiful body. Kill them for touching you Loki. For touching one who should be their king, not their concubine. You wouldn't have touched anything like yourself but you know they will make you wank for them.” It smiled. Looking passed it I could see my makeup was right. Black around the eyes, lashes and liner, no eye shadow, and bright cherry red lips. Under the dress I am naked. If I bent over everyone could see how much I had been used in a few hours. “You really do make a lovely little sissy, Loki. You know that?”

“Shut up.” I mutter looking away. I only did this for the drugs, I lie to myself. I was experimenting before, I was just a kid. The fact that all of the underclothing I own… I look at the mirror. “Say it! Call me a slut. Say how I have always been one. Point out that I don't wear men's underwear but lacey panties. Girly, slutty panties.” I slam my hands down on my bathroom sink. “I know that I am a disgrace.” My voice sounding more like a snarl. “That's what got us here in the first place. At least they make me feel wanted.”

“And who would want you now? They enjoy your body but throw you out, high and dazed, like the trash you are when they're done. Let you wonder the streets in that state. Willing to do whatever anyone wants as long as they touch you. Such a floozy, and all of it just for an hour or two of so called peace.” Smiling at me it bared it's fangs and winks a ruby red eye. The demon is right of course. They don't actually want me they want to enjoy my body, humiliating me and seeing me broken beneath them, begging for release.

As I ready myself to make the long shameful walk to their den of horrors, I adjust the collar of my trench coat. I still look good. I am still incredibly attractive. My choice of drug and my insanity haven't stolen that from me at least. “I know you will be there. I will see you, demon.”

About half way there I pull the small flask of vodka I keep in my coat and take the E. The vodka makes it stronger or else it wouldn't do what they expect. It is also why once I arrive I am given a vial of liquid Ecstasy, they call it Shooting Star, to take.

“Hello Lola. If it isn't our favourite little star.” Damien purrs to me as I swallow the vial's vile contents. He moves closer to me, his intention clear. They all want to get to take me before Michael. According to them he stretches me out too much.

“You know Michael's rules. I am to go straight to him first. Please let me go.” He grabbed my arm. It was uncomfortable but not painful. Nothing is painful, ever, which is why I crave it.

“Michael ain't here. You wanna get started? He might give ya something nice for being so good to me.”

“Then I'm supposed to go wait for him in his room until he returns and drink another star every hour.” I pull out of Damien's grip. “You will get your turn.”

“You always do.” A deep voice speaks behind me. I fake excitement as I turn around.

“Michael!” I pitch my voice to sound more effeminate. “I have missed you so much.” He kisses me and I can feel all the nerves in my body start to tingle. The E is kicking in. Soon the only thing I would care about was physical sensation.

“I missed you too my sweet Lola Star. Now let’s go talk for a bit and catch up.” His smooth bass voice is a trick. He sounds as trustworthy as you please but really he is as shrewd as myself on a bad day. I know that I happened to pick a good day to get my pills. I would get the pills first and pay. I follow him into the back bedroom where he hands me four bottles of 100 pills each. Enough for about 8 days. “I still love how you look in this dress my sweet little Poptart.” I cringe as I hate that name. “I got you another present, Poptart.” He saw the cringe. For lack of a better term I am fucked.

Michael hands me a small bag. “Let me see you in it.” Reaching in I feel leather and boning. Damn. I know exactly what it is. My hands shake as I pull the vibrant green and gold corset from the bag. I hate him. He even managed to get it in my colours.

“Thank you Michael. It’s lovely.” I try to smile. If I didn't know what awaited me I would have actually like it.

“I love how the colour matches your eyes, Lola. Let me help you with it.” He smiles at me. It is a dark and pleased smile. Not one of happiness but of sadistic joy.

His rough, hot hands slide my trench coat off my shoulders. He groans happily seeing me in his favourite outfit. I feel his hand slide down the front of my dress and over my erection. This is why he calls the vile liquid E a Shooting Star. He made it for me. It contains a form of arousal drug and it works like an aphrodisiac on me. This is my payment. I feel the thin straps of the dress slide off my shoulders and the whole thing falls to the floor.

Still behind me Michael wraps the corset around my body. It fits perfectly. The universe hates me. Michael has all the power now as I feel him lacing the back. He could crush my organs, break ribs and even make it impossible to breath. He begins the long process of tightening the brutal relic of fashion as I feel my ability to breath become impaired. My already narrow waist is much thinner now. “You really should have been born a woman. You would have made such a beautiful whore. Still, at least this is good to look at.”

“Thank you.” I manage to wheeze. If I don't respond to his compliments he may take my pills, he had before and I begin to think I might actually need them after this.

I feel my ribs getting compressed and then a hard pop.

“I might have broken rib my sweet Poptart. But beauty is pain.”

“Yes it is. Please Michael, make me beautiful.” I know he will make me plead for more throughout the night. I hate that I beg so willingly, even without the drugs or the withdrawal.

I feel him finish tightening and tying the corset tight. It sits in a way that I can't bend forward or sideways. I can arch backwards and expect that I may be spending a lot of time that way. Michael walks in front of me and smiles. Everything feels like it is being crushed and I can barely breathe. He rubs my erection with his rough palm and I hiss involuntarily at the pleasure.

“I always forget how much you enjoy being touched. Maybe I should stop.” He pulls his hand away making me gasp. I expect to feel lube smeared on my hole not the tender pat he places on my ass. “You know, the boys have been complaining that I am too hard on you. They wanna feel how tight you really are but I still want to be inside you first. Do you have any ideas my darling Lola?”

“You could take my mouth first tonight Michael.” I try to sound eager but in truth I despise this. He slides his hand through my silky black hair. He hums, mulling over my suggestion as he strokes my hair like I’m a cat. His little pussy cat. I know what he is actually waiting for. “Please Michael, let me suck you off tonight. I really want to taste you. It's been so long since you let me savour your singular flavour.” I can still get what I want with my silver tongue. I want my drugs not his cock.

“I like the way you make that sound Lola. On your knees for me Poptart.” Following his command was harder than I expected. Unable to bend in the middle, I almost fall on my face as my centre of gravity shifts when I try to kneel. He laughs as I manage to catch myself. He isn't going to help me. This is all a part of it and I hate it. To be embarrassed like this. I was a prince, gods dammit and I want to kill Michael for laughing. I just want my drugs more.

I somehow manage to push myself back up so I am sitting on my heels and he grabs my hair roughly. “I like it when you bow to me, Poptart. Now, worship me.” He stands with his hands on his hips, grinning down at me. I reach up to undo his belt buckle when I catch my reflection on its surface. Dammit all.

“So slutty on your knees Loki. I love how you just give them exactly what they want from you. Your depraved moans and whore-ish begging. How I was a part of you I will never understand.”

I undo the buckle, knowing I'll keep hearing the demon's voice until I am given more of either drug. Michael groans as I palm his cock through his jeans while undoing them and sliding them low enough to access it. He keeps his hand in my hair, using it to control my motions as he shoves his penis in my mouth.

“You should see how slutty you look Loki. Bright red lips stretched around his cock. You make the whores back home look classy with that display. So pathetic, letting this mortal use you like that.” The demon hisses at me.

“Fuck yes Lola, just like that. Make daddy cum for you Poptart.” He groans thrusting into the back of my throat. I know he will make me choke on himself. He isn't that big but it makes him feel like he is. It is strange to have my gag reflex kick in from having my throat fucked without it hurting. I have never gotten used to it.

“That’s right Poptart. Show me who you worship. Who is your god now!” He holds my face against his pelvis so that I choke and choke hard. I can't breathe. My nose is trapped and his cock is blocking my throat. Pressing my palms onto his thighs I try to force him off. Tears start to spill down my cheeks as I start to panic. The worst part is that I can feel how close I am to making a mess on the floor in front of him.

Michael lets me breathe finally. But it is far too brief a moment before he is suffocating me with his now twitching cock again. I start to feel my vision going from lack of air and my own cock twitch, ready to spill. I dig my nails into his thighs. I know this is a bad plan but I am not going to let the men here take me while I am unconscious.

As Michael jerks out of me I drag my teeth along his twitching member. He cums on my face as a result. Laughing, he forces me to stand. I can't bear to make eye contact with him. I can smell his seed on my face and want desperately to find release myself. My want must be written all over my face.

“I want you to wipe my jizz off your face and jerk yourself off with it, Poptart.” He sneers. I obey without hesitation, the drugs interfering with rational thought. This act alone should be disgusting to me but yet I can feel myself edging closer as he watches. I moan his name, much to my embarrassment.

I see him pick something pink up off the dresser. He steps next to me as I moan his name again, holding the pink thing, a small plastic cup, in front of my cock.

“That’s right Lola. You need this don't you?”

“You love being such slut don't you Loki?”

I start to lose control of myself. The tip of my erection bumping on the inside of the cup and the voices driving me closer. I groan out a prayer to the Norns to have mercy on my irredeemable soul and slip into Norse as I speak. Michael hits me, bitchslaps me across my face.

“Use English you whore!” He screams at me. It pushes me over the edge. I cry out as I cum into the cup, tears rolling down my face in shame. When my cock stops twitching he takes the cup away. I watch as he adds two vials of the disgusting strawberry flavoured drug to it. He hands me the cup. “Drink this for me, Poptart.”

I don't say anything or follow his command. I just stare at him, mortified.

“Drink it or I take your Demmies and I know you don't want that. Do you my little Strawberry Poptart?”

“No…” My voice is pathetically weak. I am humiliated. I want to vomit. I close my eyes and try not to taste myself as I do what I am told, like some sort of slave. I need my Demerol. It is a shame that this is what my life has become. I know that I’m an addict, I just don't care anymore. It's better than struggling to not give in to what I really want, freedom. I don't know what happens if I give in but I can only imagine it will be worse. How it could be worse than being pushed out into an open room in nothing but a green and gold corset with so much Ecstasy in me that it would kill most men and the expectation that I will give myself to them willingly, is well beyond me.

Damien is waiting to grab me first. He’s a smart one and always mad that he can't be the one to stretch me out. No patience with anything. For a moment I am glad that I don't feel pain.

Damien pushes me to the floor. “Hey Princess Poptart. You ready to take it from a real man, you Sissy slut?” He stands behind me, feet planted on either side of my hips. I shift slightly as Damien scares me. He may actually try to kill me one of these days. My own movement causes my still hard cock to rub in the carpet, and I moan. “That sounded like a yes to me.”

He roughly grabs my hips lifting them. I can hear how excited his is to see my ass untouched. His hands roam over my exposed backside. It feels good. The ecstasy making every sensation more intense. I know I should be trying to get away. What he, Michael and the others do to me is tantamount to rape. As he presses two fingers into my ass I want to scream for him to stop but all my mind will let me do is moan. Moan and push back against his hand like a wanton whore. He pours some kind of oil onto my still tight hole. It feels so good to have his slick fingers pumping into me. He reaches his other hand around my tiny cinched waist to tease my rock hard cock and I thrust into his hand immediately.

“Loki, look at you being such a good, what did he just call you, oh yes, sissy. Just a slutty little pansy boy. You harlot. Beg for his cock. Do it. Beg.”

“You want to really feel me in you. You need my cock stretching and filling your ass. I have wanted this for so long. The only thing missing is you begging, you hussy.” Damien's voice is already rough. The thought of my pleading, needy whining has sent him over the edge many times before. Now I know he will coax those same sounds out of me with his own ministrations. And he wouldn't have to wait long.

“Please Damien. Please. Show me… show me what I am. Show me how to take your cock. Please please please. Fuck me Damien. Stretch my sissy ass out on you. Oh please fuck me.” The ecstasy is working. I no longer care about how I look or sound. All I care about is sensation and how I can get more of it.

My begging is like blood in a shark tank and like sharks the other men start to come near. Watching and waiting for their turn with the bait, with me. They sneer and laugh as I cry out for more from current my abuser. His name falling from my lips like a curse. Before long I am forced up onto my hands and my mouth is fill by another man's cock.

Damien curses him out for taking advantage of my open hole. I recognize Kristian’s voice over me.

“You got your five minutes Damien. Besides we all know you'll go for the next thirty if you want to. That's right Poptart. Just like a real slut.” It feels so good to have two men fucking into me. Kristian's hand tugging at my hair. I groan as they argue over me, letting their anger set their pace. To them, I don't matter. The drugs make me get off from whatever they do to me. I am just there to pleasure them. More like a noisy, messy, drugged up sex toy than anything truly alive.

Kristian doesn't take long before he is forcing me to swallow his load. He may be fast but this isn't going to be the last time he shoves his dick in my mouth. It isn't long after that that I am screaming out for Damien, leaving a gross white puddle on the carpet. He finishes just after that inside me. No condoms, no protection. I am worth that little to them.

I know Michael is watching. He always does. He enjoys it just as much as actually fucking me, so long as no one else has first. Once I'm dirty he doesn't want me, or at least doesn't want my ass anymore. I'm gonna end up sucking him off again at some point.

“That's a good girl, Lola. All nice and dirty now, aren't you?”

“Yes Damien, sir.” I'm moaning as I talk. Needless to say the Shooting Star was working its magic. He slaps my ass making some of his seed spill out.

“Disgusting slut.” I hear Gregory behind me now. I know he is going to make me ride him. Sure enough he hauls me to my feet and slams his mouth against mine. A moment later he lifts me off my feet and pushes me against a wall. He pushes into me, taking advantage of the pressure on my hips to spread my legs wider. He hits my prostate, first shot. I moan and start moving around trying to get him to hit it again. “Such a goddammed whore. Already bouncing in my prick. And still so tight. And this pretty thing makin you look like a wasp.”

I ride his cock for far more than I’m worth. I can't keep from mewling as he starts to thrust into me. Kissing and clawing as he does. He laughs as he makes short work of making me cum. Gregory is one of the few that cares that I actually ejaculate. Once he finishes a moment later he makes me lick my mess off his body, all of it. I catch a glimpse of myself again and the voice is back.

“Oh, you like cleaning yourself off of him. Every inch that you messed on him. You think he's gonna come in your mouth again this time, tramp? You want him too. I know it. I don't remember you crying out to the men who you would let fuck you before to cum in you, and on you. Loki, look how far you've fallen. The whore prince. It has a nice ring doesn't it?”

As the men abuse my body I lose track of who calls me what horrible name and uses me in what way. I only know that the day has changed when I am dragged outside to give one of the men a blow job while he has his morning coffee and smoke.

I am shoved back inside and see my coat by the door. The men are now ignoring me as well. I am all paid up for the moment. Not that I am really caring. As I stumble over to my things I my flask sitting on my stuff. Sometimes if I’m a good little wench they fill it for me. It feels full as I pick it up. My mouth tastes nasty so I take a swig before slipping my dress over the corset and my jacket over that. I slip my heels on and by some miracle can stand and walk in them. I take another shot of vodka, still feeling the buzz of the E in my system. I just want to get home and in my own bed and down a handful of demmies.

The most dangerous part of my addiction is probably getting back after. Well aside from the hours of unprotected sex with multiple partners, and the risk of overdosing. Most walks are not bad and I make it home without incident. This time however, about halfway home, as I take about six of my pills I notice the smell of strawberries. The fuckers spiked my vodka with fucking E. I had been wondering why I wasn't coming down. I still feel desperate, horny and willing as I stumble along.

Walking around in ten inch stiletto heels isn't easy when you’re sober. It is worse when you’re so high you can't see straight. I’m wobbling as I make my way across a street. A passing truck slows down to get a better look at my nympho ass. I wave at him. Maybe he'll drive me home or to his place. At least he is better looking than the men I just spent the past twelve hours being fucked by.

I miss the curb and feel something snap. It snapped hard and I think I feel something break through my skin. I can't feel the pain as I look down to see bone sticking out of my clearly broken ankle. Yet something, the drugs, makes me try and get up and keep walking. Trying to step I collapse again as my right leg won't support me. I see a truck pull up to the curb. The driver already has me at his mercy seeing as I can't walk, so I certainly can't run from him.

I decide not to struggle knowing that his hands will feel good on my body. Laying where I fell, I can see beaten up combat boots walking up to me. Really nice legs bend to a kneel next to me and a sweet voice accompanies them.

“Miss, are you alright?” The stranger sounds concerned. Legitimately concerned. So strange for someone to care about something like me. “That ankle looks bad. My name is James. Is it alright if I help ya out?”

“You can do whatever you want with me, Sexy thing.” I smile like the slut I am.

“Alright…” He hesitates before lifting me without so much as a groan of effort. I curl into his chest. He smells good and the leather of his jacket is smooth against my face. “What's your name Miss?”

I giggle. For a brief second I want to tell my rescuer my real name but the drugs make my choice. “Lola, Lola Star.”

“Okay Lola, I'm gonna have to get you to stand for a moment. Don't put any weight on that foot.” He sets me down and I finally get a look at my knight and am shocked. It’s the driver of the truck that passed me not five minutes ago and he is hot. Even if I wasn't carrying a pharmacy in my bloodstream I would have hit on him. I just wouldn't be so vulgar.

Leaning into my good side to make my hips more obvious, I pout my lips as I speak. “So, James, however will I pay you back for your kindness? I can be quite giving of myself if you want to indulge yourself.”

For a moment he stares at me wide eyed. Then gets himself together again. “You don't need to do anythin' like that for me. I just wanna see you get to a hospital.”

I giggle. “You're so sweet.” I hiccup and can't get enough air all of a sudden. As I begin to gasp James jumps into action.

“What's wrong Lola?” I clutch my abdomen. “Does it hurt?” I shake my head, panicking, starting to lose my vision.

Somehow I manage to say “Corset.” As my gasping becomes weaker James doesn't waste a second. Making me sit in the driver seat he hikes up the back of the dress. Without a word he seems to summon a blade from thin air and in one fluid movement cut the binding ribbons.

I gasp a dizzying amount of air as the device loosens instantly and I fall back across the front bench of his truck. After hours of being crushed my chest expands fully and I feel my ribs pop and one of them relocates itself.

“That feel better?” He asks helping me to lay flat on my back. I nod not trusting my voice to not slip into its natural tones. “Good, I'm gonna try to splint your ankle now.”

My long legs are hanging out of the door as he grabs some clean looking rags from a box on the back seat. When he moves back between them I lift my broken ankle up to his shoulder level and smile seductively as his eyes widen at the sight under my dress.

“Surprise!” I giggle again, still making myself sound like a girl. James stares for a moment at my crotch before collecting himself again. I’m such a slut. He doesn't say anything as he carefully wraps the protruding bone and surrounding flesh in the cloth and then moves me into the back seat of the truck.

As I lay on my back, my long limbs making it that I have to sprawl to be comfortable, I begin to feel the Demmies finally kicking in. The giddy, light feeling making any lingering fears of what James may do to me or where he may take me fade. I watch him tip his rear-view mirror so he can see me. I catch my own eye but the drugs are at a point that the demon can't speak anymore.

“Do you have anyone I should call to tell them where you are?” He asks, watching me.

Still trying to sound like a girl I tell him, “Nope. I am alone on the world.”

“Really? Would you like me to stay with you until they take you to fix your ankle?”

The cocktail of drugs and alcohol are starting to do things to me. I can feel that I am about to pass out. I nod at the stranger as my vision fades to black.

 

×××××

 

“And that's all I remember before waking up in recovery. James sitting next to my bed and the cast on my foot.” I finally look at Dr. Jillian. “Between the back of the truck and there is just, blank.”

“That's actually alright. You didn't fully regain consciousness at any point. Honestly I am surprised you remember that much Loki. You really did go through a lot of trauma.” Dr. Jillian’s voice is firm and kind as she speaks with me.

It has been a year since James found me laying in the street, out of my mind with such a strong cocktail of drugs in my system that it should’ve killed me and almost did. For some reason Dr. Cho and her associates, knowing who I was and what I did, saved my life. I was told my heart stopped and I quit breathing. It took them two hours to stabilize me and a further three days to get everything out of my system. I was shocked when I woke up to find I was in a medical ward with a dark haired man sitting next to me reading.

“So how have the cravings been?” She asks looking through the file from the rehab facility that another shocking person paid for. However I suppose Stark, having been an addict once before, may have understood me at that point. That was a long six months I hope to never repeat.

“Better. I haven't had one in three weeks and I haven't needed any of the other stuff in six.” I smile. Getting off the Demerol was hard but the people at the rehab helped a lot. They gave me safer meds to replace the Demmies and then helped me cut those back. They were also the ones who first got me to see a psychologist. To actually try and get me real help instead of watching me self-medicate. Not that anyone was watching me before. I don't honestly believe that I am schizophrenic however the medications they have given me did make the demon stop talking.

“And how about the new medication for your hallucinations? Still getting the tingling?”

“No. This medication is better than the last one. I am still seeing it but he doesn't speak and I can live with that.”

“What about things between you and James?”

I blush. “Really good. He really makes me feel… alive.”

“Alright then. I think we should have you back in a month.”

I gape at her in shock. “A month? I'm finally starting to get better then?”

“You've been getting better for a while now Loki. You have managed to go quite some time without a relapse, you have a stable relationship with someone and have been at home with him for three months. I am confident that you will do quite well from here.”

I smile, relieved. I am healing.

James, Bucky to everyone else, is waiting for me as I leave her office. He doesn't care about my oddities, my problems, what I wear under my clothes or what I did. He is a man with his own problems and it was Dr. Jillian who suggested we spend time together. She had no idea about where it would go in the six months since she told him to visit me at rehab. I will always treasure the shocked look on her face when I told her we had kissed for the first time.

“So?” He asks as I exit the office.

“I got bumped up from once a week to once a month!” I practically start jumping for joy.

“That’s great.” James put his arm around my shoulders. “Do I need to ask how you're doin'?”

“Probably not, but I feel really good, like I have finally made really progress. Thank you for saving my life James.”

He laughs. “I didn't save your life, Loki.” Turning and placing his hands on my hips. The weight of them is enough that we can both feel what I’m wearing underneath. I no longer feel ashamed about the pretty lacey things that I prefer to wear. They make me feel good, just like he does. “I just helped someone who needed a hand.”

“No. You saved me James.” He is just a bit shorter than me but he feels taller. I kiss him gently. “You just didn't know I needed saving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope the ending helped to balance the darkness out just a bit. 
> 
> please let me know what you though and if I missed any warnings in the tags, I will respond to comments as I get them.


End file.
